A Vision of Christmas
by stargirl5
Summary: Serena's forced onto the streets for Christmas but then finds herself at a very rich home for the holidays. Downside? The owner of the house. prev-ChristmasDreams
1. Prologue

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A Vision of Christmas  


P R O L O G U E  
_by star  
_

Do you hear her crying?

Lifeless eyes betray the pain.

Christmas chimes play hauntingly,

It's cold out in the rain.  


A vision of Christmas,

A prayer, a dream, a spark.

Through the tears, may she find,

Christmas in her heart.

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The tiny apartment was dingy, dulled in all colors of brown. Chipped paint, furniture fit for a garbage dump, and void of all warmth. Not even a hint of Christmas, she acknowledged, feeling empty but for the shade of sadness. She walked over the warped wooden floor, her face expressionless as she stood in the middle, staring down at a crashed beer bottle. Silently, she squatted down and began picking up the pieces of glass. The floor creaked behind her, but she wouldn't look up, ignoring the twist in her stomach.

"Where'd you put it, Serena?" a woman's slurred voice demanded, soft in its warning.

Serena kept her gaze on her task. "I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured. 

"The hell you don't!" the woman spat. 

Serena yelped as her aunt came up behind her and jerked her head back by her long blonde hair. The thirty-seven-year old flaunted beauty under an ugly mask; makeup smeared onto her face, her hair bleached into starchy strands, a slutty ensemble hugged her thin body. "Tell me where the damn box is!" 

"You mean the illegal drugs?" Serena inquired. Her aunt shook her and Serena cried out as her head hit one of the overhanging cabinets. Fingernails bit deep into her shoulders as they forced her back flat onto the kitchen counter. Serena shut her eyes as her chest heaved, heart pounding in her head.

A wave of nausea encompassed her as her aunt leaned over, breath bitter with alcohol. "Answer me." The woman twisted Serena's arm, bringing tears to the girl's eyes.

"It's not here," she choked out. 

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not!" Serena screamed over a burst of pain. "I threw it out…" she murmured, wary of being heard. She squeezed her eyes shut, her body tense. Nothing happened. Her aunt pushed her away. She scrambled off balance before catching the edge of the counter to keep from falling. Her aunt moved away. 

"Get your things and get the hell out." 

Serena's blue eyes stared unfocused out a broken and clouded window, her body trembling.

"You're '_eighteen'_ now," her aunt mocked. "An adult. And when you find out how hard it is on your own, don't come crawling to me like you did when my damn brother died."

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I'd be better off anyway, Serena thought. Her body jerked to life. She strode down the tiny hallway and into a cramped room. Bringing out a duffel bag, she threw clothes and whatever few possessions she had into it. She zipped it and slung it over her shoulder. Squatting down, she stuck her hand underneath the mattress of her bed. Her lips parted, her brow creasing as her eyes darkened with worry. She dropped her bag and searched more before finally just tearing the mattress away. 

__

It wasn't there… 

"Looking for something?" a voice taunted from her doorway. Serena whipped her head towards her aunt.

"I had two hundred dollars under here," she said, voice strained with an accusing note. 

Her aunt shrugged with an amused smile. "I needed something."

Serena stilled, her voice locked within her throat as she stared at the last person she could call family. _How could she?_ Her face hardened. It shouldn't have been much of a surprise. Without a word, she got up with her duffel bag and left.

The freezing air outside stung her face as she stepped out. She hugged her arms around her, almost in denial as she wandered through a few streets. After ten minutes, she leaned against a graffiti covered wall and slid down. She took in a breath, embracing herself for a minute before extracting something from her jean's pocket. She clenched her hands before uncurling her fingers and looking what at what laid within her palm. She restrained a cry. Hardly thirteen dollars including change.

It started to rain, each drop a pellet of ice against her skin. The tears slid down her cheeks, a sob escaping her as she cried in the dark alleyway. Loneliness dragged at her heart. Such a terrible feeling. A Santa for the salvation army ho-hoed not far away. Christmas was locked within a display window around her, so close, yet impossible to reach…

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StarInMyPocket.net

The old chapters to this story can still be find on my web site until all 

existing chapters are replaced.


	2. Chapter One

Christmas is wonderful to me, in meaning and atmosphere. I began this story 

two Christmases ago and for someone who loves Christmas so much, I haven't 

been paying too much attention to this story and I am sorry for that. I am going to 

do my best to finish this by Christmas 2003, but the story's being revamped. The

title is being changed to "A Vision of Christmas," and I am starting over from 

chapter one. I couldn't see myself being motivated for this story unless I gave it 

more depth and realness and began again. The concept will be the same, but 

there will be new scenes and different approaches to scenes. I hope you will 

enjoy the new version! --Star

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A Vision of Christmas  


CHAPTER ONE  
_by star  
_

Sweet Noel is singing,

Singing softly in her ear.

Blue eyes wander crying,

Echoing a Christmas tear.

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The dim shelter was suffocating, the winter-cast city outside lost to the heat of warm bodies bustling about in chaos. Weary eyes stared from every face, clangings rang from an unseen kitchen, babies taking turns to sound out their distress. Serena bit her lip on her frustration as a man carrying a thin cot bumped into her. She turned again to the middle-aged woman behind the counter with mousy golden curls and thin rimmed glasses, drawing in a deep breath. "Look, please," she said slowly, "I have no where else to go." She swiped at a disheveled strand of blond hair that fell in her face, her shoulders drooped wearily and her eyes bright and begging.

The woman's brow creased in sympathy, but she shook her head. "I'm sorry, young lady. It's _Christmas_. We're overcrowded; it's hard enough to walk in this place! We're only authorized to have so many people per shelter." 

"Would one more person really make a difference?" Serena cried, her voice cracking as desperation grated on her.

The woman seemed ready to say something before gazing into Serena's pleading eyes and giving a hefty sigh. "How about getting some hot soup into you before you go?" The woman's wrinkled face of enthusiasm and hope made her appear like she was asking a little girl if she wanted a cookie. 

Serena swallowed the knot in her throat as her hopes plummeted, forcing a smile to her lips as her face tried to twist in her desperation. She nodded, not trusting her tight throat, and let the woman direct her to a steamy line by a cafeteria set-up. 

A little while later, Serena sat smudged between two people at one of the long tables, looking in wearily at the thin chicken noodle soup before her, idly stirring and bringing a warm sip to her mouth with the plastic spoon when she remembered to do so. A wrench of bitterness tugged at her, and she immediately tried to strike it down. She couldn't blame the shelter, couldn't be angry with the ones around her that would be able to sleep indoors. Most of them looked like they had been on the streets for some time. This was only her first day. She'd survive… somehow. Why couldn't she have lived in Florida instead of New Jersey? It would've been much warmer on the streets there. There was no snow yet, but there were icy winds, and it didn't take long for a nose to numb and a face and fingers to chill.

After lingering as long as she dared, Serena tossed out her garbage after two helpings of soup and slipped outdoors, rubbing her arms. She shut her eyes briefly, drawing in a long breath. She had to think. Where was she to go? She skirted warily around the thought of family. It only made her eyes glassy with tears and it hard to breathe. She didn't have any family. She sniffed, swiping her hand under her nose and trying to smooth down the hurt furrows of her brow. The path of self-pity was useless to go down. She refused to feel it. What other options did she have? Wasn't there anyone she knew who could take her in for a little while?

She rolled through her memory, pulling up faces from school. But she never made many friends when she changed schools to live with her aunt. Some acquaintances perhaps…She struggled. There had to be _someone_. Suddenly she stopped, her whole countenance seeming to float higher. Lita. Lita Granten! Serena hadn't been close with the girl, not having spoken with her since graduation, but she did know where Lita's apartment was and felt sure she would help her out. 

Serena pushed through the crowds on the street only moments later, eager to get to Lita's place. After ten minutes of brisk walking, she turned onto an apartment block on the side of the dark street. It had a fair amount of ware and tear; Lita was an orphan after all, though had many more years of experience in the role compared to Serena. In any case, it was far respectable in the shadow of her Aunt's rat-infested shack. A few times in her senior year she had escaped her Aunt's cruelty or simply avoided the place when the woman brought a _friend_ home by camping out at Lita's. 

The urge to see her friend pushed Serena from her pause and she flew up the stone steps to Lita's door, knocking with an impatient fervor. Soon enough, Serena's giddy body calmed and her face drained of its luster. Dread seemed to pull her stomach down. "Lita?" Serena knocked again, trying to ignore the telltale sign that it was dark inside. She released a strangled breath, struggling against the need to kick the door and break down in tears. 

Lita could have just been out for a little bit--right? Shopping, working, anything? Serena grappled for that, and much calmer, she sat herself down on the stone steps to wait. Ten minutes passed, then a half an hour, and then a few hours, and Serena still didn't want to face the prospect that Lita wasn't coming back. The sky was darkening just enough for the doorstop lights to turn on when a tired woman shuffled to one of the neighboring apartments. Serena rose quickly. "Excuse me!"

A thin face framed by sad twists and curls turned to her with a frown, eyes tired an irritated.

"Please, could you tell me where Lita Granten is? The girl in this apartment?"

The woman waved a dismissive hand at Serena, muttering a bit as she unlocked the door. "Been gone for over a week. Don't waste your time waiting," the woman's cranky voice told Serena before she disappeared inside.

Serena stepped back numbly, her arms limp at her sides as she stared at where the woman had been, her steady breaths blowing clouds in the air. Something began to ache inside her, rumbling around with her frustration and suffocating feeling of loneliness. She stumbled down the steps and twisted through a few streets as if in an ugly dream.

Her eyelids began to sink, her mind clouding in sleepiness. She passed a gathering of homeless people, some rubbing their hands by a fire in a trash can and others making pillows from cardboard boxes and rags. Suddenly a wash of dizziness struck her along with a shudder. She hurried by, sinking to the ground beneath a rusty fire escape, apart enough from the idle bums. A heap of garbage had collected beneath the iron platform of the fire escape, but the lure was the old tarp. She sat there a moment, trying not to see the people nearby though their trashcan-fires glimmered from the side of her vision. She hated their eyes, bright and hallow depths that spoke more of hard times than in any one else she had ever seen. Serena's breaths began to slow and she finally leaned over to rest on top of the tarp, her stiff, chilled fingers curling over the rough material as she shut her eyes and fell into sleep. 

Darien rubbed his hand over his face, shaking his head as he wished away the tiny throbbing that budded near his temples. "You have to be mistaken." He sat on the brink of his vinyl couch in one of the more unused rooms in his house, his back hunched over as his head drooped--a position he wasn't used to but that he formed into the more the man and lady from social services across from him spoke. How could they be so calm and natural? 

The woman smiled warmly from her prim position. "There is no mistake, Mr. Eddington. Renee Eddington-Laynes clearly leaves Danielle to you." Seeing the blank look on the young man's face, the woman scrambled through some papers on her lap and lifted one towards Darien. "It's right here, in her will," her words tumbled out quickly as she gestured for Darien to take the paper. "It's highlighted where she says it."

Darien didn't want to look at it, the mere mention of his mother returning the familiar broiling anger in his stomach that not even sympathy for her death eased. He reached out and fetched the paper though out of politeness and gave a half-hearted glance at it. Under the guise of reading his mother's will, his tumbling mind--loosing all the order that he cherished through college and taking on the family business--ran on recklessly. He knew he could never understand Renee, but what the hell had she been thinking leaving her and Frank Laynes' daughter to _him_? Even in that blonde, flighty head of hers, she must have known he couldn't take care of a little girl let alone take care of _their_ little girl. He never forgave her for leaving his father, even though James Eddington said he didn't care a wit that the woman was gone. His father's lack of reaction was besides the point.

Taking in a slow, steady breath, Darien tried to center his thoughts. He had been caught completely unaware, in the midst of organizing the Christmas party for his new associates that was scheduled in a week_._ At first he had tried to turn the two social workers away, explaining it was a terrible time for him, but the shy little girl with frosty-blonde curls, cheeks rosy from the cold, and hazel eyes an exact replica of his mother's stopped him cold. He had never seen his little sister, Danielle Laynes, as he had ignored his mother's existence since her marriage to Frank Laynes. He knew of his mother's death and Frank's "disappearance" but could hardly fathom why their daughter was in the foyer of his house! Though, an odd pit of suspicion formed despite his bewilderment. The little seed was now nourished to an oak tree of dread and denial. 

Finally, he looked up at the social workers, trying to fight to remember the woman's name as she seemed to be the one in charge. "Mrs. Tyres," he began slowly, handing back the will, "I don't know why my mother thought me to be Danielle's guardian, but I just can't do it. You're going to have to find someone else. Look, this really isn't a good time. I have two guests arriving any moment."

The two social workers shared deflated and worried looks. Mrs. Tyres straightened her shoulders as she gathered a breath and turned her gaze imploringly at the successful but somewhat-caught-off-guard young man across from her. "Mr. Eddington. I understand this is a bad time, but she is your sister. If you absolutely cannot, Danny can be placed in another foster home for Christmas until permanent arrangements can be made for her with someone else, but I plead with you to rethink this. Danny has just lost both of her parents and she has not been comfortable in the foster homes she's been placed in thus far. They're strangers to her. What if she just stayed with you for the holidays?"

Darien frowned. "Mrs. Tyres, maybe you don't know it but they are no more strangers to her than I am."

"But you are her _brother_," the woman cried heartfully.

Darien shut his eyes against the frustration. "Look, I'm not a scrooge but--" Suddenly, he stopped and he stiffened shoulders drooped in defeat. "All right, all right. She can stay. Just for the holidays." 

The two social workers looked relieved beyond belief. Mrs. Tyres beamed at him. "That's wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Eddington. I'm sure Danny will enjoy it here. We'll just fetch her things and--"

Darien's head came up swiftly. "Now? I mean, she's moving in this moment?"

Mrs. Tyres rose an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

Darien bit his tongue and shook his weary head. "No, there's no problem. One of the maid's can help her get settled in." Darien forced his breaths to stay calm. His mind was pulled and twisted in frantic knots as suddenly alarm bells, not sleigh bells, rang clear.

Unknown to the adults, Danielle Laynes had curled up in the hall outside the room the social workers and brother had talked in. Sniffing, she swiped her sleeve under her reddened nose, her chin just barely trembling as her eyes crinkled in tears. He didn't want her. He said she could stay for Christmas, but he still didn't want her. 

Why did Mama leave her? Maybe the boy at her last foster home was right. No one loved her anymore. People were taking care of her, but they didn't really _want_ to. The realization hurt. She hugged her arms tightly around herself, scrambling to her feet as Mrs. Tyres and Mr. Brambleton came out to find her. 

Mrs. Tyres gave her a big hug with a happy smile. "It looks like you're going to stay with your brother for Christmas. Isn't that wonderful, Sweetie?"

Danielle didn't know what to say so smiled back at the woman. The smile, however, faded too quickly to be real let alone reach her wide eyes. She quietly followed the two as they led her to the stairs where a maid that looked like she had too many things running around her mind stood. The maid gave her a quick smile before hurrying her up to a room, mumbling something about a party and so much to do as she took Danielle's hand and led her up the staircase.

Danielle didn't listen to the woman, too distracted by the grand surroundings. Did her brother own all of that? Even though he didn't want her, there was a sprout of awe in her. He must have really been somebody. Mama and Papa had a lot of money, but their home hadn't been nearly so big or intimidating. 

The maid brought her to a very large room that was decorated fancy like her parent's bedroom had been--an adult bedroom. The old maid chattered as she quickly moved to change Danielle into a nicer dress. Was she going to the Christmas party she heard about? Maybe it would be fun? But she didn't let herself think of that for long. Fun or not, she wasn't wanted. The maid exclaimed about Danielle's silence, but Danielle still didn't speak. She was always quiet. Maybe that was why no one seemed to want her. Either way, her little mind amidst her loneliness resolved to run away.

Serena walked into the small but crowded restaurant, feeling more uncomfortable doing so than she thought she ever could be. Stares made her face red for another reason besides the cold. But the heat from inside cradled around her sore, frigid skin and she could not bring herself to walk out. She had every right to be there, she insisted to herself as she walked farther in, her eyes glued to the ground as she maneuvered herself to a table for two. Though the passing days were sometimes lost to her, it had been nearly two weeks and she knew she looked just as grungy and "uncivilized" as the seasoned penniless bums. The last time she had stolen into a bathroom and had a look in the mirror, she had trouble seeing herself. Her face seemed paler, her becoming dip beneath her high cheekbones had hallowed sickly from hunger; dirt smudged on her skin no matter how many times she scrubbed at it. Her lips were still their rosy pink, but they stroked an expressionless line. Her eyes were still their impossible blue, but they looked glassy and lost. Her golden blonde hair had framed around the sad sight, an oily mass tangled and wild, ever growing down her back.

Serena quietly ordered a hot pastry and water, not daring to buy anything more even though her stomach cried for a real meal. Her eyes never lifted from the table even for the waitress, her eyelashes fluttering, bland gaze centered on the checkered tablecloth before falling to temptation and flickering up to roam around the room. She caught sight of a few older couples, a tired business person hunched over coffee and papers, and three young men in baggy clothes standing in a corner. One of them in a ski-hat with a goatee laughed and carelessly gestured a hand at her.

Grinding her teeth, Serena dragged her attention back to the table, her body stiff as she waited for her food. Not even a minute later, someone slumped loudly into the chair opposite her and two other forms skimmed her vision. A wave of unease snaked through her, her eyes—still stubbornly set on the tablecloth pattern—flittering about in alarm.

"Well, if it isn't a little beggar girl," the guy grinned across from her, his buddies chuckling in support.

Serena sat quietly, pretending he wasn't there. 

The guy hunched over his side of the table, folding his hands and nodding his head at her silence and looking at his friends before turning back to her. "Hey Sweetheart, you got some dirt on that pretty little cheek of yours," he told her, his hand coming up to rub the side of Serena's face. Serena jerked back sharply, finally staring at him, her lips taught. The three only seemed amused at her reaction, and the boy once again lifted his hand towards her with a grin on his face.

Serena flinched, longingly thinking of the money she spent on her food as she prepared to high-tail it out of there. Before she could do so though, a sharp female voice snapped at her harrassers. "Leave her alone!"

The two guys stepped back with easy smiles and the one sitting across from Serena sent the waitress an appreciative glance. "Hey baby, we're just having some fun. Why—"

"Don't you dare call me _Baby_. If you don't leave right this seconds I swear I will call the cops!" 

Serena drew in a slow breath, carefully watching the guys opposite of her. The one sitting at the table gave her a lingering glance before standing up. For a moment it seemed like he was challenging the young waitress but with a nod at his lackeys, the three walked out. 

Serena shut her eyes for a moment, releasing her held breath until she heard the bells of the door. Her nerves felt frayed.

"Are you all right?"

Serena lifted her head, for the first time getting a good look at her waitress. A girl around her own age stood there in a starch-white blouse and black pants and apron, hair shades blonder than Serena's own rolling down her slim figure. Compassionate dark blue eyes looked back at her in concern.

Nodding, Serena tried to find her voice. "Yes—thank you," she managed softly before the blonde proceeded to set her food before her. 

"Those guys were such jerks," the waitress muttered, placing her hands on her hips. "They deserve more than coal in their stockings! If they hadn't have left I wouldn't have just called the cops—I would've given them a beating where it hurts." The girl declared this with a gleam in her indigo eyes as she primly crossed her arms.

Serena laughed, the first real humor she had been able to relish in for a terribly long time. Something eased at her hurting spirit and she was about to respond to the friendly waitress when her eyes caught on the food the girl had placed before her. She looked tentatively up at her waitress. "Excuse me… but I didn't order all this," she informed, sadly pushing the tempting meal with sides and dessert cake, gaze flittering also over the coffee besides her water. The girl must've mixed hers with someone else. But the waitress shook her head with a bright smile.

"You need your strength," she said simply. "It's on the house."

Serena opened her mouth to refuse—grateful for the girl's action but nonetheless worried that she'd get in trouble with her boss. Before she could, the sunny blonde held out her hand. "Mina Thatcher," she introduced.

Smiling softly and letting her refusal drop, Serena took the girls hand. "Serena Brentan." 

"Miss? Miss!" a disgruntled diner called.

Mina gave loud groan, rolling her eyes. "I better get goin', but come again." The girl's blue eyes crinkled mischievously. "If those guys ever bother you again, hit 'em where it hurts!" 

With a wink, the girl flew away to another table. Serena gazed down at her lunch-dinner, picking up a roll and proceeding to butter it with a peaceful smile. 

Some time later, Serena weaved through the cold streets towards where she had made camp under the fire escape. The gray sky above was darkening for the evening, and she had quickly realized during being homeless that there were certain back streets _not_ to step into at night. Being in one of those herself as it was a shortcut, her neck prickling uneasily as it tended to do, she was considerably relieved when a stray dog whinnied and hurried after her brisk walk. 

"Hey Cinnamon," Serena said softly, her breath giving a steamy cloud. The dog trotting beside her turned his head, gazing attentively. Serena dug out a few scraps from her meal and lowered her hand for Cinnamon to eagerly gobble up. The dog with a matty brown coat had approached her some days earlier, and due to the cinnamon bun that Serena was rationing seeming to be the cause, she appropriately named him. She smiled at the mutt's loyal eyes before sighing and continued walking back to her alley.

Sometimes she could hear carried voices and the bustle from the streets. Her sad, stormy eyes envisioned the shoppers. There were surely stress and irritation in their holiday chaos as they moved about the streets, but they really didn't know how good they had it. They could return to a warm home, perhaps even to loved ones. Serena could not. In her daydreams she pictured excited children tugging at their parents. She had used to do that to her parents, she recalled tearfully. She'd bounced as if on a sugar-high, dragging her mom from one shop to the other, pointing at prospective teddy bears for their mother-daughter Christmas tradition. Her father would shake his head and follow with a gentle smile. Sammy… her little bro, just a toddler. She would cart him around in her small arms with a brilliant smile, pointing out toy scenes to him.

God, how she missed them. Her heartache grew heavier with the thought of the anniversary of their death drawing near. This was to be her first real Christmas without them. Last year's Christmas was scarred by the fateful day only days later from the joyous occasion. When she thought of that time last year, she could only think of the sorrow, but right now, as she walked in the cold, she played cherished memories from that Christmas like a lifeline. In her mind's eye, all those memories were bathed in a warm yellow light. 

Serena walked through the small gathering of other homeless people, smiling and nodding at a grungy man who told her with a child's excitement that the church down the road would be serving spaghetti the next day. She past them quietly as always, her mind lost. Sweet chimes of Noel echoed from afar. It was Cinnamon's strange behavior that dragged her attention back when she was just a few steps from her makeshift bed. The dog was whinnying and lifting his head in the air, beginning to pace. Serena watching him with a tilt of her head as he strayed over to a junk pile against the brick wall, surprised at the sound of a child's cry. She flew over the cracked pavement, peeling away some cardboard. Cinnamon barked proudly at finding the source of his confusion, but Serena barely heard him. A girl with frosty-blonde curls in a party dress stared up at her with hazel eyes brimmed with tears.

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StarInMyPocket.net


	3. Chapter Two

Well, the holiday season is upon us. I hope you enjoy the next chapter of a 

Vision of Christmas. Time has gone by just too quickly, and I'm sorry that I don't 

have more chapters of this done. We'll have to see if I can get more posted for this 

before the season is over. ^_^; If this is the last chapter I have for this before 

Christmas, then… have a Merry Christmas! ^____^ --star

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A Vision of Christmas

CHAPTER TWO  
_by star_

A child's bright eyes of hope,

Strains of chords singing silent night,

Destined journeys begin with the heart,

Within the darkness, billows of light.

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Clutching the little girl's hands, Serena searched the spread out gathering in the intersection of alleys. A few bent over, coughing, rubbing their frostbitten hands by a trash can fire. All had different stories, different reasons for being there. A woman with a particularly nasty tongue and oily hair poking from under a ski hat curled up in a blanket by herself, a few old drunks consoled each other with humor, a family with two children held each other, with all that they owned in plastic bags. 

Some roamed off during the day for a tiring search of an open place in homeless shelters, and if they didn't return by night, Serena would sometimes wonder if they were sleeping in a bed with food in their stomachs, were dead, or if they had simply moved on. There weren't many choices. The world had a cruel side, and Serena was living in it just like they were. You couldn't get a warm place to sleep without money (or charity, which seemed in short supply), and you couldn't get money, for both jobs and welfare because both required you to have that place to sleep—an address. You could walk in circles, trapped in an endless cycle with no way out. 

It was why most of these people had lost hope long ago, why their eyes looked so dead—except one; just one of them had bright eyes and a beaming smile, his heart warm and glowing even in the dire cold that encased the streets. Serena needed help, and he would be the best one to give it. Sometimes he disappeared for small or large amounts of time, and the more she searched, the more she feared that now was one of those times. 

"Come on Danny," she finally whispered, tugging at her young companion's hand. The child stared up with trusting hazel eyes when they were both startled by an outburst around them. Moans and cries of despair rose in the chilled air as the first snowflakes floated down from the black sky followed by bitter curses. Serena lifted her face, the bits of snow stinging and melting on her cheeks. It was like a beautiful death. The cold could only now increase; a useless battle for any form of warmth. 

The sudden despair that heavied over the crowd was broken by a sudden, cheery rendition _of Let it Snow_ humming wildly from a harmonica. A group of men around the trash can groaned, but a grin spread across Serena's lips as she turned, knowing who it would be. An old man skipped down the snow-powdered street, unkempt smoky white hair poking out from under a cap and a beard bushing around his face. His cheeks were red with cold, his gray eyes bright; a huge scarf wrapped snugly round his neck, and he cupped a silver harmonica to his lips. The upbeat strains of the Christmas song sang into the frigid air as the snow from the unsung lyrics filled the sky. 

Spotting Serena, he strolled over, bending down to Danielle's eye level and blowing the final chorus. A smile sprung on Danielle's lips and the hum of the harmonica seemed to ring in the air even as Nicholas Christian pulled the silver instrument from his lips and wiggled his bushy eyebrows. He stepped back and gave a shout to the woman curled in the blanket that fidgeted and scowled. At this response he merely smiled and tossed her what looked like a peppermint candy cane. "For you!" he said.

She held it up and growled, "You're a fool! You buy _food_ Nicholas Christian, not candy!" but despite the viscous words, her eyes seemed to soften and she broke off a piece of candy cane and plopped it in her mouth as she settled back down.

Nick turned back to Serena, raised his eyebrows humorously, and said, "But what the old broad doesn't know is that I get them free. Isn't Christmas just wonderful?" 

"So where were you?" Serena asked as he dug into a coat pocket and presented Danielle with her own candy cane. 

Still smiling, he shrugged it of, not looking at her. "Oh, here and there. How about introducing me to this pretty young lady here?" Did you know, he whispered to Danielle after being introduced, that the first snow brings good luck, and Serena watched as he prompted her to stick out a pink tongue along with him to catch the snowflakes. And that was all it took—an old senile homeless man with the exuberance of St. Nick himself—to make the snow just then magical… 

* * *

"Thank you officer, I understand," Mrs. Arthurs, the head hostess for the Eddington household, said as strongly as she could with her back arched straight and hands folded as her hope began to fade with the police man's parting. Oh dear, oh dear indeed!

Her sturdy and able body sank weakly into a chair and she pressed a hand to her weary head, for once her sharp mind at a loss. The young Miss Danielle's disappearance had sent her control into frenzy. 

There had been so much to do that day, though! She had woken in the dark early morning hours, supervising the rushed preparations for the Christmas Party that would take place the next day. The young master had left for the city the very day after Danielle Laynes arrived, leaving the haggard Mrs. Arthurs on her own to ready for the first grand party of the season _and_ take care of a child! 

She had been flying up the stairs, down the stairs, from room to room all day, barking orders to the bustle of maids, dealing with an upset caterer, and forced to take matters of things in her own hands when nothing was going right. There was no time to keep her eye on the child—who she had placed in the care of a younger maid. There wasn't even a way to know what time the girl had left. 

"Would you like me to call Master Eddington," asked the soft voice of one of the older butlers.

She swiveled her head in his direction with unfocused eyes before shakily standing, lifting her chin high, and patting down the wrinkles in her crimson dress suit. "No, no," she breathed, swallowing. "That won't be needed." She dismissed him, sensing the parlor of her face and cold clamminess of her weathered hands that gripped the end of the chair. Nothing good, she thought, would come of telling Darien Eddington the news before it is absolutely necessary.

* * *

The night unfolded before Serena and it there felt like there was a little angel dancing in her world. Nicholas was his normal self—merry like none other in life could be, leading them in a line of Christmas songs. Serena couldn't think of two other people alive in the world that she had rather be around as she had sat and laughed with them in the chill of the night, white frosting the grungy street. 

Serena made a vague prodding to take Danielle to the police, but Danielle shrieked, "No! I want to stay with you and Mr. Nick." 

Nick ruffed his shoulders and said, donning a pompous voice, "See, she doesn't want to see any police." He pushed out his lower lip and gave a firm nod.

Serena's shoulders slumped and she turned to Danielle. "All right, Danny. No police. But your parents must be worried sick. We have to get you back! Do you know where they are?" 

Danielle's brow furrowed and she tugged at Serena's sleeve, staring up at her with bright eyes. "I don't have parents. Can't I stay with you?"

Serena's mouth dropped and a slow, dull ache played in her chest before the words even sunk into comprehension. She shut her eyes for a moment and let out a long, cloudy breath. Nick frowned and sat back quietly. Unable to form any words, Serena opened her arms, feeling numb as the little girl promptly climbed into her lap and buried herself there, Serena's arms closing around her. "Danny," she breathed, "You must still have some kind of home…" 

"No I don't. I don't have a home! They took me to my brother for Christmas--but he doesn't want me." 

"How could you know that? Danny, it's been hours since you've gone. He must be scared out of his mind—" Serena leaned back, trying to look at Danielle's face which had buried in the crook of her arm. 

"No he's not," Danielle cried. "I know 'cause I heard him say so myself and he only talked to me once before leaving me with the old lady." 

Her aunt hadn't wanted to take care of her either. Serena's heart leapt into her throat and she tightened her hug, her brow furrowing as she shut her eyes. She knew what it was like not to be wanted. Her instinct was to never let Danielle go, but she berated herself for that longing. A child wasn't a stray dog she could take home—and even if she wanted to argue with that, she couldn't with the painful truth that she _had_ no home. No, she just had to accept her new place in life. 

A gentle hand lying down on her shoulder interrupted her painful thoughts and she lifted her face from Danielle's hair, her tired eyes trailing up to meet Nicholas' gaze. For the first time Serena had ever saw him, he looked serious. 

His pale eyes shifted to Danielle and he crouched, resting his hand on the girl's back. "Danielle," he said gently and she lifted her head. "This… brother of yours, I think he might be lonely." 

"Him—lonely?" Danielle whispered with wide eyes.

Nicholas nodded gravely. 

"But… but he doesn't act as if he's lonely," Danielle puzzled out loud. 

"Well, you see Danielle, some people are lonely without realizing it. Sometimes they realize it, but won't admit it. They don't think they need anybody. You know, I bet your brother needs someone just like you." He tapped Danielle's chest.

The enlightened look blooming on the child's face fell. "But he'll only let him stay with me for Christmas." 

"Ah—but Christmas is a very special time! A person's whole life can be changed by it. See, Danielle, there's a certain _vision_ of Christmas. Some people can't see if very well. Some can hardly see it at all, even when they need to so badly. _Everyone_ deserves to be loved, to be happy, at Christmas time." Nick's eyes flicked up unexpectedly to Serena's gaze and she drew in a slow breath before averting her gaze. He turned his attention back to Danielle and smiled at her. "Will you do that Danielle? Go home and take care of that brother of yours? Love is a very special thing."

Danielle nodded solemnly. 

Serena began to smile, marveling at Nicholas. Many of the others on the streets grumbled and called him a loony, and sometimes Serena even thought so too, but there was something special about him. He was an eccentric old man, but one with a very good heart. After Danielle decided to go back to her brother, Nick became his blusterious self again and had the girl giggling in no time. The chill pricked at Serena as the night went on, sinking coldly into her blood. She smiled and sang softly the choruses Nick and Danny bellowed out, but her eyes were half glazed. 

When Danny rubbed her sleepy eyes, asking where the doggy had gone, Serena took hold of the girl's hand and prodded her up, telling her Cinnamon would be around. "Come on Danny. You need to sleep." 

Danielle blinked up at her with unfocused eyes. "Are we sleeping on the street?" 

Serena hesitated, and then quietly answered, "Yes."

"Okay. You know, if you come home with me, you can share my bed."

Serena was silent for a moment, fingers tightening over the girl's small, cold hand. "Maybe," she said. Turning to Nick, she offered a thankful smile. "Take care of yourself." 

He saluted her and she turned and tugged Danielle with her, making her way over to the fire escape. The rusted metal of the railing for the stairs was cold enough to sting as she grabbed onto it and scooted underneath it. Danielle crawled after her and Serena wrapped her arms around the girl, settling them down. 

Her eyes fluttered sleepily as she laid her head down on the rumpled tarp, Danielle snuggling closer to her. She planted a kiss on the girl's forehead, whispering a simple good night and earning herself a wide stare before Danielle abruptly burrowed her head into Serena's embrace. Serena let her worn body sink into the tarps, tugging her thick scarf up over her ears and checking to make sure Danielle was warm enough tucked beneath her over coat. 

She tried not to think of the feelings tugging at her heart, the whisper of warmth abridging the cold shell that had been with her for so long. For once, the pain and desolation wasn't so unbearable as she shut her eyes to a peaceful slumber. She heard steps crunching the snow nearby and the strains of a harmonica singing Silent Night. The song wrapped around her like dark, calm waves and unknown to herself, her frozen lips pulled into a sleepy smile.

* * *

Serena tried to break from her sleep that encased her like ice. She felt the never-ending chill nipping at her face, sensed the cold gray sky threatening more snow and the hard ground beneath her. Her dark lashes fluttered, but pressed stubbornly against her frozen cheeks as her dreams wandered achingly in her muggy mind. It was always a struggle to wake up. It was too tempting to stay lost in sleep. What was the point to wake up? Sadness always clung to her, but at least in dreams, none of it seemed real. Perhaps that was why her eyes had glazed over when she was awake—she was trying to wrap herself in the comforting illusion that a dream provided.

Every day though she had fought to wake up and won. The thought of giving up scared her too much. The thought of _wanting_ to never wake up scared her. So she opened her eyes to face the cold and stare up at the rusting bars around her. The struggle was harder though as the days went on. She felt like a doll, a very heavy doll, left abandoned on the cold ground and unable to move. The tingle in her mind began its work; soon, she regained enough thought and awareness to get the overpowering feeling that something was different this morning. A small, warm body clung to her. 

Remembering, her mind cleared to a crisp focus as her eyes snapped open. Stormy blue framed by dark lashes stared up at the ghostly white sky, her chest rising with breath beneath a child's weight and a cloud forming by her lips as it fell. Her stiff hand moved over the sleeping girl's back, rubbing comfortingly as Serena's eyes trailed down to the lump beneath her large caramel colored coat. A smile tugged then broke across her rosy lips and she shut her eyes another moment. 

Something inside her fluttered happily. The lonely ache had somehow eased, against her will grasping onto the little girl's presence and solidifying her attachment. The realization dropped her serene smile flat and she had to suppress a frustrated cry. It would only make it hurt more when the source was gone. Gathering and brushing her pain into a far corner, Serena shook the sleeping child. "Danielle," she whispered.

A groan rolled from beneath the coat-blanket as Danielle squirmed, sticking her head out from the coat's warmth and yawning, rubbing at her eyes. "Serena!" The child's face lit up as she lifted her gaze to Serena. 

Serena smiled, rumbling the girl's honeyed curls with affection. "Come on, Sweetie. We gotta get going."

Danielle wrinkled her nose. "Where?"

"Well, first we're going to get breakfast in our bellies and then you, Squirt, are going home," Serena breathed in a light voice, crawling out from under the fire escape and tugging Danielle up to her feet.

Serena turned away from the girl's depleted look, biting her lip as she stared at her duffle bag. She wasn't sure how long she'd be gone and didn't trust it still being there if she left it, so after a moment's decision she slung it over her shoulder. Turning to face Danielle, she was relieved to see that the sad face smiling as the girl petted Cinnamon who seemed to be in a playful mood. 

Smiling herself, she took Danielle's hand in her own and headed out of the alley. Danielle twisted to look back with a laugh. "I think Cinnamon wants breakfast too!" 

Serena nodded with a fond look towards the dog happily following after them, giving a gentle squeeze to Danielle's hand. Danielle looked up at her and Serena had to swallow the lump in her throat at the adoring hazel eyes. "Where are we eating?" Serena paused with a hesitant smile.

* * *

"Thanks Mina," Serena breathed gratefully, staring at the table where Danielle forked up a mouthful of eggs and beacon. The girl kept tapping and looking out the window to make sure that Cinnamon was still waiting on the sidewalk. 

"Of course." Mina brushed away the thanks easily, leaning against the entrance to the kitchen with her arms crossed. With the business being slow in the morning and it being a new day, the waitress looked pipper and fresh in comparison to the shade of weariness that had grown on her the evening before. Her uniform was crisp and her rain-straight blonde hair half pulled up into a black barrette in back. She turned to look at the pretty but grungy girl with soft blue eyes who stood besides her still staring at Danielle. Mina's indigo eyes stared shrewdly. "What should I get for you to eat? Then we can talk."

Serena turned startled to Mina, recalling the girl's kindness and forced to look away from the girl's awaiting eyes. She shrugged her shoulders. "Just coffee, thank you." 

Mina rolled her eyes with a groan. "Girl, don't give me that. If you don't get some food in you you're going to be walking bones. You're going to need your strength to get this girl home so you know you need it and if you _don't_ order something decent in the next minute I swear I will get old Jerry to make every single breakfast item on the menu!"

Serena looked up, feeling tiny under Mina's stern and daring gaze. Still not wanting to give in, she conceded, "Maybe a… bagel then."

Mina stared at her for a moment as if she didn't hear her. "Two bagels," she declared with no room for refusal. "Sit down and I'll be right back."

Serena slumped in the closest seat and soon after Mina reappeared, clattering a plate of two bagels stuffed with cream cheese and a cup of coffee and proceeding to fall into the seat next to Serena. Under the watching eyes, Serena took a sip of her coffee, finding Mina had taken the liberty to fill it with creams and sugars, and obediently nibbled at a bagel. "I was a little afraid you wouldn't be here in the morning," Serena murmured after a little bit.

Mina grinned at her. "You were lucky. I work mornings Tuesdays and Thursdays. I set up my hours around my classes. I want to graduate for fashion design."

Classes. Serena's eyes glassed over, Mina noting it silently. "Do you go to college?" Mina asked. Serena sent her an odd, unbelieving look. Mina laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "How should I know?" quieting down though, Mina grew serious. "You want to though, don't you?" 

Serena looked at her food, nodding. "Yeah," she said quietly after a moment. "It was my dream to major it music. Tour the world, you know, maybe settle down and teach. It's not like it'll happen though." 

Mina frowned at her. "Don't say that! You don't know if it will or not."

Serena smiled in thanks at the girl, though still not really believing it. 

Seeming to sense the girl's feelings, Mina leaned back in her seat and changed the topic. "So… does Danielle just live around here? You said you found her in an alley. She wandered off from her mom or something?"

Serena sighed. "Not quite. She told me she just snuck onto a bus and rode it for hours."

Mina raised an eyebrow. "That can't be good."

Serena nodded her agreement, idly stirring her coffee in hopes of dissolving the coat of sugar at the bottom. "She was running away. Apparently her mom died recently and she was brought to live with her older brother… There has to be some age gap though if he's living on his own. I'm not sure about the details, but she got the impression that he didn't want her. I figured after we ate that I'd look him up."

After listening, Mina piped up. "What's the guy's name?"

"Umm… I think she said Darien Eddington." 

Serena looked over at Mina curiously as she watched the girl's eyes bulge. "What is it? You know him?"

Shaking her head, Mina sat back again though still with her bewildered expression. "Well, _of_ him, yeah. You haven't heard of him?"

Serena shook her head slowly. 

"Man, he has to have been all over the news—TV and mags…" Mina muttered.

Serena gave the girl a wry, pointed look. "I haven't had either of those things in nearly a year! Who is the guy?"

Mina looked thoughtful, tapping her nails on the table. "Well… from what I know, he's from this legacy millionaire family. He's young—fresh out of college," Mina paused for a laugh," Bet ya anything from Harvard or Princeton. But man… he could probably retire, but he's taking control over the family business. I swear he is _so_ hot! I think some place ranked him in the top most eligible bachelors under twenty-five." Mina chewed on her pink lip for a moment. "The guy _definitely_ does not live in New Jersey."

A sinking sensation began to overpower Serena and her face caved into her arms on the table. "I don't feel so good."

"Why?"

Serena was beginning to get frustrated with this waitress who was slowly becoming a friend. Why couldn't the girl get it through that thick blonde head? "Why? Do you know how I'll feel stepping any foot near this guy? Mina, I've been living under a fire escape for a week, and worse, I _look_ like I've been living under a fire escape for months."

Mina shrugged. "So?" Suddenly, she grinned. "Maybe he'll even give you a reward for returning his little sis to him!"

Serena gave Mina a incredulous look and Mina threw up her hands in surrender. "All right, all right! I'm sorry. You're right. He'll probably get one look at you and send you off to prison for returning her. It all makes sense."

"You don't have to be sarcastic," Serena moaned, propping her head on her hands. 

"Look, I'm sorry. Your negative thinking is getting to me."

Serena stared down at her plate. Mina had her there. She hadn't been such a pessimist before though. She used to have dreams, faith, and pretty rose-colored glasses. Having your family die in one night and becoming homeless just had an effect on a person she supposed. "I'm sorry too," she returned quietly.

Mina's dark eyes softened. "Hey, I know you're having a tough time now and are worried about Danny-over-there's brother. I'd go with you—I swear I would love to—if it wasn't for work and an afternoon class. Just don't let the guy walk over you, kay?"

Serena nodded with a smile.

"That's a good girl," Mina laughed.

Suddenly, the bell on the door rang and whir of brown bounded across the thin carpet. Serena gasped as an excited Cinnamon stood up, propping his paws on the table next to her with his tongue out and tail wagging. A just as happy Danielle trailed behind him. "Danielle!" Serena groaned, standing up. "You can't let the dog inside."

"But he was cold out there," Danielle returned, rubbing the dog behind his ear.

Serena opened her mouth to speak but Mina stepped in with a grin. "Awe… who's this handsome mutt?" 

"This is Cinnamon!" Danielle responded with bright eyes. "He's Serena's doggie." 

"Mina, I'm sorry. I'll take him right out—"

"Oh, don't bother!" Mina waved away Serena. "You heard the kid. The poor dog's frozen out there."

Serena's shoulders slumped as she looked at Mina, eyes imploring. "Serious? You're sure you won't get in trouble?"

"Don't worry about it. The big guy loves animals."

"Yeah, but in his _restaurant_?" Serena cried. 

"There's no one here," Mina said lightly as she cooed at the dog and gave him a rub down. 

Serena shook her head, turning to look at Danielle. "Hey munchkin, you ready to go?"

"Uh-huh." The girl nodded, still sliding her hand over Cinnamon's back. 

"Mina… thanks for everything," Serena said.

"You going to go find Darien Eddington?" Mina asked as she stood up.

Serena nodded. 

"All right, you'll want to take the bus that stops by at the corner. Should be around at ten. The guy is like a century old and acts like a robot. You can get the dog on the bus in a cinch." Mina dug into her pocket and stashed some crumpled bills into Serena's hand.

"Mina," Serena breathed. "I—I can't—"

"Yes you can," Mina interrupted. "But before you go, you better sit your cute behind back down and finish that bagel while I go see if I can find this guy's address." Mina smiled and headed to the back.

Serena gaped at the girl, looking at the second bagel on her plate and back where the girl disappeared. With a sigh and hint of a smile, she sat and picked up her bagel.

* * *

White light poured through the bay windows in the twenty-fourth story condo, an empty silence hovering throughout the elegant rooms. Everything was a glossy sheen, the perfect angle for every object set upon the plush, beige carpets or hung on the crisp, white walls that led to the high ceilings. An UN-lived in air projected from the place, but small evidence littered randomly. Two mugs that used to contain sleep-depriving coffee sat neglected in the pristine sink, a keychain sitting on a cleared counter. Through the winding hallways, past the untouched bedroom, and within a small office room, a jacket was strewn on the floor and a dark-haired man typed ferociously on his keyboard.

Dark blue eyes with bags beneath them squinted at the sleek, thin computer screen, a shroud of black hair shadowing them. Darien Eddington leaned over his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loose, and coffee growing cold beside him. With a finishing tap, Darien sat back, rubbing his sore eyes. He looked at his silver watch with a sigh, finding it mid morning. He shook his head, thinking of how he planned to take at least a few hours of sleep before he headed back home. He didn't dare lay down now with so short of time—he'd be too afraid that he wouldn't get up until the afternoon, too late to settle back down and over see things had been properly taken care of for the party. 

He'd left for a week for his flat in the city to finish up some work. There was loads to do—who had time for the holidays? His meddling sister who was at school in Boston would not lecture him about the heartstrings of Christmas if she could see what he had to get done. Darien felt a streak of wryness play through him as he laughed at himself, mentally shaking his head. No, Raye would only glare and say to hell with the work—to hell with the business even! Their collected father would choke on his drink if he heard some of the things that ran out of that fiery mouth of hers. 

Darien shook his head, a smile finally smoothing at his lips as he rubbed at the stubble prickling his chin. Dear old dad. The old man sometimes seemed to be the only one who really understood him, understood his responsibility to the family business and even slapped him on the back for it. 

During Darien's musings, an intruder crept into the sleek apartment, black heels padding softly over the thick carpets. "Darien," a silky feminine voice sang.

Darien's head came up at the voice and looked woman leaning seductively against the doorway. A mass of red coils framed her coy face and rolled over her bare shoulders. Cat eyes grinned at him from a rim of coal eyelashes and glittering gold eye shadow. With smooth movements, she twirled and modeled her clinging, strapless black gown that swished at her ankles, broken only by two daring slits. "You like? I bought it special for the party tonight."

Darien let a smile crease his lips as he stared at the beautiful woman. "Yes Beryl, it looks wonderful," he said complacently with an admiring glance. "One look at you and we'll have a hundred new clients."

Beryl Mandridge pouted. "But the dress isn't for them," she moaned, slipping in back of Darien's chair and letting her hands slide over his shoulders and trail over his chest, rumpling his shirt further. "You look like hell, you know," she breathed in his ear, twirling a lock of his messed hair around a long finger. "I like it."

Darien shut his eyes with a breathy laugh. 

"You haven't slept for days… You should have called me and invited me over. I had to learn from a client you met with that you were in the city. I would have helped you sleep."

"Sleep?" Darien asked in an amused, wry voice. 

Beryl hit him playfully with a throaty laugh. "At least you'd enjoy it. You've locked yourself in here too long—it's Christmas."

Darien let out an agitated moan. "Hell, don't say that word. Please," he muttered, raising his aching body from his leather chair and collected his jacket.

Beryl sat down on the desk, crossing her legs and leaning forward with a playful grin. "Too many eggnogs, good will, and Joy to the World?" 

"Yes! Damn it, the whole month drives me mad. I'll thank God when it's over," Darien sighed as he rolled down his sleeves and slipped into his jacket.

Red lips spread to reveal a row of white teeth as Beryl pulled away from the desk and pressed herself against Darien, toying with his tie. "My dear, wonderful Scrooge. You're limo's waiting downstairs. _I_ will meet you tonight at the party and then afterwards… I'll help you forget that Christmas exists."

"Tonight," Darien echoed, warily thinking of his need to sleep. As a businessman, he had pushed himself through many working-nights, but there was a limit. Beryl was a tempting enjoyment, but he found that he wouldn't regret it if she decided not to stay after the party. He massaged his temple for a moment, taking in a breath. Beryl was more than an enchantress; she was a snake. His sister always stared him down and demanded why he had such a fiendish for her type—sometimes he wondered the same thing, but he knew. He knew all too well why he attached to her type. Innocence was only a mask—those girls were the real snakes carrying such a deception. No… Beryl and her kind were honest about who they were. They were safe. 

"Beryl," Darien sighed, "Perhaps—" A shrill of rings cut him off and he scrambled for his cell phone and brought it to his ear. "Hello—"

A gruff voice broke over him. "Confound this holiday--every one's mad!" 

Darien's lip twitched in amusement at his father's rant. "Trust me, I have been thinking _exactly_ the same thing."

"Knew you would, knew you would," muttered James Eddington with pride. "If I get one more package of Cuban Cigars… Bah! The idiots. They don't know what good cigars if it bit them on their noses."

"But, you have Marianne send the Cubans to our clients," Darien mused.

"Well, of course! You bloody well expect me to waste the good stuff on them?" 

Darien shook his head, laughing. While doing so, Beryl, whose had had was resting on his chest, tugged the mouth piece to her lips and cooed, "Good morning, Mr. Eddington." 

"Beryl? Was that Beryl?"

"Yeah Dad--"

"Darien, you sly old dog!" his father growled with a hearty laugh.

"Yeah, Dad listen. I'm going out the door now, but I wanted to know if you'll be there tonight?" There was a pause on the other end, and Darien was sure the old man was scowling in disgust.

"Nah, don't think that I will, son. You're a charmer--you don't need a grumpy old fool at a Christmas party with clients! You'll do just fine."

Ending the call, Darien swept past Beryl (the woman happily shadowing behind him) and began the trek to the ground floor, a whistling tune upon his lips. He was striding quite purposefully to the glass doors to where his limo awaited him when his merriment died in a gustful wrench in his stomach. A little girl was playing around in the lobby and the sight did not provide a happy reminder.

Beryl followed his gazed and moaned sympathetically, "You still have that pest for Christmas?" Beryl had never seen Danielle but disliked the majority of children-kind, instantly pitying Darien when he had shared the news with her. 

He nodded at Beryl as she left him once outdoors. She must have kissed him and said something, but he found his mind entrapped by the thought of Danielle. True, he was able to escape to the city on the excuse of business, but now he couldn't avoid it. Mindlessly, he punched the numbers into his cell phone as he slipped into the awaiting limo. The housekeeper picked up promptly after the second ring and briskly answered his questions concerning the preparations for the evening party.

He hesitated near the end of the call, but then forced himself to inquire how Danielle was doing, whose care he had placed with the housekeeper. There was a tense silence on the other end.

"Ms. Arthurs?" Darien prodded with annoyance. "Are you there?"

"Yes, yes," the woman responded softly over the phone, though a nervous tremor seemed to run through her naturally business-like voice. "Danielle is fine. Just fine. No need to worry."

Darien frowned, wondering if he imagined the anxiousness tone. Picturing the tall, capable middle-aged widow, he decided to blame it on his own sleep deprivation. "Good, good." He gave a long sigh. "I'll be there in a couple hours in time to check things over, shower, and greet the guests. Expect me in--" he checked his Rolex watch, "--two hours. Good day, Ms. Arthurs." Darien shut off his phone and collapsed it into his pocket. Resting his head back against the limousine's plush interior, he shut his eyes and soon fell to sleep. Later on he would wake to the lingering images of St. Nick lecturing him, his sister Raye as an elf glaring at him beside the fat man, and a jumping little girl in PJs tugging at him to read _the Night Before Christmas_. He pleaded and begged to whatever power there was that Christmas would soon be over.


End file.
